


Service

by Viridian5



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: Dark fic, Drama, Farfarello Being Farfarello, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-22
Updated: 2004-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schuldig's bored. Farfarello occupies him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Service

**Author's Note:**

> Some spoilers for "Mission 18: Schuld-- Farfarello."
> 
> It's Farfarello's idea of fun, so expect some blasphemy. You might want to turn back now.

"I'm bored," I said. Our kitten-watching shift had ended, and since I'd already done everything in this city I wanted to do the night looked long and empty.

"So?" Farfarello answered. He didn't even look at me. Just kept staring out the window, thinking kill, maim, sheep, God, blood, shiny, red, kill, God....

It caught me up for a moment, but then it bored me for being the same old Farfarello gig. "So I'm bored."

"Yeah?"

"Fix it."

He smiled a little. "Fix it yourself. Make your own fun."

"Crawford doesn't like it when we make our fun." He tended to put us in straitjackets as punishment, though at least he didn't hang _me_ upside-down from the ceiling in a dark room.

"That man. Himself."

It annoyed me that my little red sports car had its driver's stuff on the wrong side. Here, I could only see the side of Farfarello's face that had the eyepatch. Made me lose out on oodles of facial expressions. At least his mental image of shoving a blade into Crawford's chest and corkscrewing it around gave me a little entertainment.

But he wouldn't do it in real life, not while Crawford had things we wanted.

"So you make my fun," I said.

"Heh. I don't think he'll see it as an improvement."

"He doesn't let me fuck with the kittens' heads without orders, so it's up to you to unbore me."

"That's not a word."

"For a guy who uses hydrochloric acid as holy water, you can be really literal-minded sometimes."

"Do you really want me to find something for you to do?"

"What the fuck have I been asking for over the last five minutes?"

"If I do, you can't complain."

"I can always complain."

"Can't. That's how it has to be."

He intrigued me sometimes, like now, when I suddenly couldn't read him anymore. Esset hadn't found any powers in him, but I could swear from some of the things he did that he had some kind of telepathy. A fucked-up, misdiagnosed talent might even explain why he didn't notice pain the way the rest of us did.

"Can't complain?"

"Can't complain. You'll have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"_That's_ a tall order."

"In return, you'll get sex and death."

"Not _my_ death." You had to be really specific with Farfarello sometimes.

"Not yours. Sex and death and blasphemy."

I already felt a little less bored. "All right. Where to?"

"Drive. I'll tell you when to stop."

I drove for a while. When I started to wonder if he were playing a prank on me, he said, "Stop and park."

"Is this for the church, Farf? Because I've seen you kill people like that before."

"I have a different game in mind. Come on now."

As we walked in, he grabbed my wrist to pull and direct me. Our psycho had a grip like a steel trap.

The church had a stark, austere look, which pleased me. If we had to destroy it afterward, I'd be happier if there weren't anything really pretty inside, since I wasn't in the right mood for that. Some days permanently fucking up something old and beautiful really got me off, but not today.

One old woman sat in a pew near the altar. I'd be tempted to say that Farfarello had considered witnesses for once, but I doubted he'd thought about it. This lack of bystanders was no doubt chance.

Farfarello led me into a confessional and closed the door behind us, leaving us in deep shadows and the scent of polish and dust. Although it had just enough room to seat us both, though not too comfortably, Farfarello sat on my lap, facing me. I started to see where this would go, and it made me smile. The anticipation and lust made me hard.

With Farfarello grinding down against my cock I didn't really make out what the priest on the other side of the screen said, though he sounded a bit bored and jaded. He wouldn't for much longer, I figured.

"Father, I have sinned. It has been a long time since my last confession." As Farfarello spoke, his hot breath tickled my neck. He'd deepened his voice and put an extra rasp into it. "I don't know how long. All the killing makes the days run into each other, but that's not why I'm here. I'm addicted to sex, Father, sex not for procreation or within the bonds of holy matrimony but pure, animal sex for its own sake."

As if either of us felt regret for that.

"Is this a joke?" the priest finally asked into the sudden silence.

"No, Father." Farfarello rocked atop my lap, and I rocked upward to meet him, definitely not bored anymore. "My lover is so talented that I can't tell him no. He fills the empty places inside me that God can't touch. I worship him on my knees and accept Communion from his cock upon my tongue. He brings me enlightenment by force as he fucks me. Hard and fast or slow and thorough. I can't help myself and can't bring myself to stop. The sin of it only makes it better." People always underestimated his sense of humor. His voice, breathy and low, made me harder.

I heard the priest forcefully get out of his compartment, then he wrenched the door open to ours, growling, "You profane a house of--"

Farfarello suddenly had his blade in his hand, extended, and slashed the priest with "I kill you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen" as he started at the man's forehead, ripped down to his chest, slashed over to the left shoulder and then the right shoulder, and ended with a stab to the chest. Red flew everywhere. With the priest impaled on his blade, he just pulled him into the confessional before dropping him to the floor.

Flush with my excitement and his, I panted, "The door's still open."

Since the priest's foot still blocked the door a little, Farfarello had to viciously kick it aside before he could close it. All this he did without leaving my lap, and his movements just excited me more. I loved flexibility.

"I hoped we could get further before he interrupted us," Farfarello said as I licked blood from his face. This close to him, I gained his kinks, his lusts. I pulsed with his deep red satisfaction, and I could hear his thoughts again, which wanted me in, wanted me in, wanted me in....

I wanted in. I wanted to fuck him until he screamed. I probably couldn't get him to scream, but I could sure as hell try. I couldn't think very well. "We're about to fuck over the corpse of a priest, and I'm not bored anymore. It's good enough." Needed him _now_ because he needed _me_ now.

My fly took no time at all and I had nothing on under my pants, but his posed a bit of a problem. Fucking bondage pants. Clawing, desperate, we finally pulled them down to his knees. He didn't have anything on under his pants either. I turned him around, pressed him against the wall that divided the compartments, and thrust in hard, making him gasp in satisfaction and me growl. He liked it dry and sudden, no slick, no prep, so he felt so damned tight, so good. The friction could kill me. We stood on the corpse in places, which made things awkward, but we didn't care.

Farfarello's fingers clawed at the mesh divider as I fucked him hard into the wall and fed him my physical sensations, my satisfaction, my echoes of his bliss at this desecration we had achieved as a team. I left bruises and bite marks and telepathically let him know the location of every one. We gloried in the slap of flesh on flesh. Yet we made no sounds aside from the unavoidable ones, a legacy of our years in Rosenkreuz. The raw, thick scent of sex joined the smell of blood, death, and dust. When I gripped him by his silver hair to pull his head to the side so I could gnaw at the side of his neck just above his collar, he made a guttural sound of satisfaction. Thrust and thrust and thrust in pure animal fucking as I used him and he used me and my telepathy. I fucked his brain as ruthlessly and joyfully as I fucked his body until I came, and my sharing it telepathically made him come hard all over the wall.

We breathed together and our hearts pounded together. He didn't want me to pull my telepathy or cock out, because he felt full and open. Something sang in him, but it slowly dimmed to a low buzz like static, and we drifted apart. He sure as hell had something in his damaged head.

When I pulled out, I saw that I'd made him bleed again. And I realized that I'd barebacked him again, something I tried not to do considering where we'd both been. Hell. He made me crazy.

Sometimes I really liked crazy, which made it impossible to leave him alone.

He turned around and pulled my head down a bit to kiss me, his tongue pushing my lips open, invading and possessing my mouth. Then he let me go. Without a word we cleaned ourselves up, wiping away sex and death, then I started a small fire in the priest's clothing, lighting my cigarette off it. We left before it became big enough to really get anyone's attention. I heroically resisted the urge to wave at the granny on our way out.

Farfarello almost looked sated as he sat in the passenger seat. Most people wouldn't have been able to sit so easily after such a thorough fucking. I put my hands on the driver's wheel and smoked. Sex and death, yay! I felt some satisfaction and a kind of mellowness. But.... "I'm bored."

Farfarello slapped the back of my head so hard that my skull rang.

 

### End


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